


It's Discord and Rhyme

by vesperlynn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 18:40:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesperlynn/pseuds/vesperlynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Danny and Stiles are best friends and go Christmas shopping and Stiles finally clears up that whole Miguel thing. So that brings Stiles to his next problem: what to get the werewolf alpha who hates everything! </p>
<p>In progress, subtle build Sterek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Discord and Rhyme

**Author's Note:**

> Be gentle, for it is my first Teen Wolf fic. Oh and please point out errors. Sometimes I read too fast and miss stuff, all the time. My goal with this was to give Danny a role outside of him typically being a plot device in fics. I hope this wasn't terrible.

It was 7:32 a.m on a Saturday. It better be an emergency if Danny’s phone is ringing. He rolled around under the comforter and did his best to block out the noise. Of course, Stiles demanded his ringtone be I’m Too Sexy. Now one hit wonder duo Right Said Fred are tormenting him before noon on the weekend. Danny ignored his phone and fell back asleep. 

 

Ten minutes later, the song blared again. 

 

“Stilessss,” Danny grumbled. He rolled over and grappled for his phone and pressed the green answer button. “Why?” Danny asked the caller.

 

“Dannnnnnny! So glad you’re up. Ready to head to the mall?” Stiles chirped.  “We gotta get our shopping on.” 

 

“The mall isn’t even open yet. And remember about calling on weekends?” Danny yawned. 

 

“Uhm. I’m not supposed to call before 9:30 west coast time,” Stiles grumbled. “Unless it’s an emergency. Which this is.” 

 

Danny started to nod off again, phone in hand. 

 

“Danny! Wake up! I will be there in twenty,” Stiles crowed. “And I will bring apology coffee.” 

 

“Mmmppppffrrr,” Danny snuffled. “And food. You owe me apology breakfast.” He stretched under the blankets and sat up. He stabbed the end button and tossed the mobile on his bed. He blinked until he felt like he could find something to wear. Danny pulled on some jeans and tossed on a hoodie. He was tying his shoes when his phone chimed, a new text from Stiles.

 

<<Didn’t want to wake the family. I’m out front.>> 

 

Danny scribbled a note and left it in the kitchen for his family. He quietly slipped out and locked the door behind him. He waited until he was in the confines of Stiles’ battered Jeep. “You didn’t want to wake my family!?” Danny sputtered. “Stiles. I’m so tired, I wanted to sleep all of today. Study for econ and wear sweatpants.” 

 

“I brought scones!” Stiles replied and and shoved a paper bag into Danny’s hands before he’d get smacked for the early wake up call. “And coffee. To your precise specifications.”

 

Danny glared as he accepted the treats. “Which one is yours?” he asked as he pawed through the bag. 

 

“The chocolate chip muffin,” Stiles replied as he peeled out into traffic. “Can you---?” Stiles held out his hand for his breakfast as he drove.

 

“I’m eating it,” Danny replied as he shoved as much of the muffin he could manage into his face. His eyes went wide as he panicked for a second, wondering if he was going to die choking on a muffin in Stiles’ Jeep. He unhinged his jaw and swallowed the muffin. He turned to glare at Stiles. “It’s delicious.”

 

“You’re welcome, buddy!” Stiles laughed. He started rambling about technical logistics of finding the right gift with a limited number of dollars. 

 

“Stiles, decaf. Remember that,” Danny cut in. “I’m not gonna lie, I clicked out for those five minutes. But whatever you were talking about, I’m sure it was really important.”

 

Stiles made a face at Danny and turned on the radio as he furiously muttered to himself. “Fine. We’ll listen to Ke$ha the entire drive there.” He attempted to drive as he messed with his iPod. 

 

“How often do I have to remind you that I don’t wanna die in your Jeep?” Danny scowled. He yanked the iPod out of Stiles’ hand and turned on music. “I figured a sheriff’s kid would be a better driver.”

 

“Noooo. I’m a special snowflake, Dannyboy,” Stiles chattered. He was buzzing at the frequency when he was gearing up to ramble. It was a bit like the warm-up for a theatrical performance. “See, being the good kid and staying in line would have just been easy, ya know? Boring, I might add. Think of all the fun you’ve had keeping me around! Plus, I got this sweet all terrain ride which just furthers all of our adventure having. Like RIGHT NOW. See, we COULD go to the regular mall in Beacon Hills but ughhhh that’d be typical and it would greatly increase the likelihood of a gift not being a surprise. Danny, we are going to the Valley!”

 

Danny raised an eyebrow and stared at Stiles. “Feel better?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Have you been working on that monolog? You’ve had that tucked away?” Danny asked. 

 

“A teenage boy needs hobbies besides schoolwork and masturbation,” Stiles grinned. 

 

“Stiles, it is way too early for you to be talking about your dick. I can’t believe I’m gonna say this: but I am happy to be listening to Ke$ha.” He reached out and cranked the volume knob.

 

Stiles banged on the steering wheel as he sang along to Die Young. “Danny, sing with me. Let’s pretend we’re on Glee!”

 

“Sometimes I think you do these things to me to test the depth of our friendship,” Danny grumbled. “And I stop us pretending we are on Glee.” He reached into the bag and ate the scone Stiles had brought him. 

 

“Fine. I’m not on Glee then,” Stiles said airily. He let Danny fuss with the iPod and control the music for the 45 minute drive to the mall. He prowled the parking lot to find a spot far and away from all other vehicles. “I don’t want her getting doored,” Stiles mumbled mostly to himself but a bit to Danny. 

 

“Okay, I’m putting you on a two hour time limit,” Danny told Stiles as he climbed out of the Jeep. “Besides, then you can buy me lunch.” They shuffled for the mall and did their best to duck the overeager and vicious early morning shoppers. 

 

The first hour went by quick enough as they both found gifts for the pack. Stiles carried Danny’s bags and did his best not to be too annoying. He was quite aware his friend needed a few hours to unthaw in the morning. 

 

“So, are we good?” Danny asked as he pointed to all the bags. “Looks like we’re covered?” he asked hopefully. He did his best to nudge Stiles in the direction of the food court. 

 

Stiles shook his head. “Nope. Just one person left,” he grumbled. “Gotta find something for Derek.”

 

“Alright. Do I know Derek?” Danny asked curiously. He started to shove Stiles toward Cinnabon, the scent of butter and sugar serenading him. Danny was a sailor, lured by sirens, about to crash and die in a mound of fat and empty calories.

 

“I dunno,” Stiles mumbled. “Probably? You could have seen him around.” He chewed his lip and looked at all the pop-up kiosks in a panic. 

 

“Oh so he’s in one of your classes?” Danny asked confused. He ordered their cinnamon rolls and turned to Stiles. “You have to pay them now.” 

 

“Huh?” Stiles asked as he gaped at Danny. “He’s not in...”

 

“Don’t worry,” Danny replied. He reached in Stiles’ pocket and pulled out his wallet. He fished out singles and paid that cashier. “You carry a lot of one dollar bills.”

 

“That’s how the strip club pays me, baby!” Stiles retorted and punched Danny’s arm. He grabbed his wallet back and shoved it into his hoodie pocket. The cashier stared at Stiles and looked him over, head to toe and then she snorted. “Tuesday’s ladies night!” he told her. 

 

Danny grabbed Stiles arm and yanked him away from the counter before he could say something else more ridiculous. “We’ll wait over here, for our cinnamon rolls!” Danny yelled to the cashier. 

 

“Are you embarrassed your best friend is a hottie, Danny?” Stiles asked as he waggled his eyebrows. 

 

“Well, Jackson is beautiful,” he replied sweetly. Danny grabbed forks and a two inch stack of napkins because Stiles is an atrocious eater. “Stiles, I dunno why you’re sweating Derek. Get him like a book or something.” 

 

They sat down to eat their food. Stiles carefully extracted the center of the Cinnabon to eat that first. “It’s not that easy!” Half-masticated pastry spewed from his mouth. 

 

Danny narrowed his eyes and threw napkins at Stiles. “Okay, then a gift card for something.”

 

“No, I want to get him something good,” Stiles grunted. He paused and then shoved more food in his mouth to force himself to shut up.

 

“You got good stuff for everyone. I don’t know why you’re worried. Why are you worried?” Danny asked. He ate his cinnamon roll neatly and opted to use a fork and knife to carefully dissect it. 

 

“Derek doesn’t...ahw fuck,” Stiles choked out. 

 

“Who is Derek?” Danny asked. He slapped Stiles’ hand. “No food distractions. Explain. Derek.”

 

“Well, he’s not my hot cousin Miguel!” Stiles squeaked. “SHIT. Okay, rewind. That wasn’t Miguel. He’s not real. So there is a person. But I don’t have a cousin named Miguel. That was a dude...you know Derek Hale. Please, let me eat more food.” 

 

Danny started typing on his phone. “So...the same Derek Hale who is older than you and has an arrest record? Look at all the Googlings for him.”

 

“Oh I’ve Googled him!” Stiles snapped back. “Hard.” 

 

“So have you Googled him or have you _Googled_ him?” Danny teased. He kicked Stiles’ foot. 

 

“This conversation is done,” Stiles sighed. He felt anxious red splotches sprout on his face and he busied himself with eating. 

 

“Stilesssss,” Danny whined. “Don’t be like that. Tell me about him. You should explain stuff because wow, the internet tells me he’s no good. But I do know his abs  are good,” he sang. “And he’s got a tattoo. And looks bad in stripes.”

 

Stiles said nothing as he scraped up the last bits of frosting. “Derek is a werewolf. And he hates doors and climbs in bedroom windows. As our friends do. But he’s like, the head bitch in charge. The alpha. But he’s a boy so he’s dumb and sometimes I help him.”

 

“You’re a boy,” Danny replied. “I am too.”  He looked at Stiles, hunched over and trying to hide. “Alright, I won’t talk about him.” 

 

“Remember when I said I dropped my phone in the sink and didn’t have it for two weeks because my dad was mad and didn’t want to buy me a new one?” Stiles rushed. 

 

“Yeah. And I told you that you need to insure things because you’re you,” Danny said smartly.

 

“Because...we were on werewolf business. And I saved him. I was in the pool with him for a few hours,” Stiles said. He sat up a bit straighter and looked around. “Can we talk about this in a non-public space? We’ll talk, but I don’t want to talk about my dork crush next to a Build A Bear and Victoria’s Secret.”

 

“Yeah. When you want,” Danny replied. He picked up their trash and tossed it in a bin. “Come on, let’s go shopping for lover boy.”

 

“You’re too adorable to hate, Danny. It’s really not fair,” Stiles pouted. He stomped after his friend who expertly navigated the crowds. 

 

“And you’re throwing a fit but I still think you’re fine,” Danny smiled. “So what kind of gift do you want to get him? Spencer’s has candy g-strings.”

 

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” Stiles whined. “I’m just a teenager, man. Crushing on a dude who probably supremely dislikes me.” 

 

“It’s bro code rule one. I kid because I care,” Danny replied. “Stop dragging my shopping bags. You look like a disgruntled husband.” He pushed Stiles into a store. 

 

“I’m really glad you think I could be your kind of husband material,” Stiles grinned. “I’m a catch.” He started touching all the folded sweaters and flitted over to a rack of scarves. He peeked at some price tags and squawked. 

 

“Quiet hands,” Danny hissed. “K, so what does Derek like? I don’t know anything about him. Other than his rap sheet.” He watched Stiles fidget and make sour candy faces. “This store isn’t him? Alright, next stop.”

 

Stiles managed to keep quiet much to the chagrin of Danny. With every store, Danny patiently coached him through options and even offered to kick in some cash for the gift. Instead, Stiles barely spoke and just mimed his disdain with his own bendy body version of charades. 

 

“Alright, Stiles. We’ve hit every store,” Danny said. He checked his watch and noticed he went way over the two hour time limit. “We can try next weekend. You’ve got lots of time.”

 

Stiles nodded as they filed through the mall and dodged kiosks of pushy salespeople. A tiny redhead jumped in front of them. “Hi there! I’m here trying to find people looking to save wildlife. Want to adopt a wolf?”

 

The two blinked at her and then stared at each other. 

 

“I mean, you don’t get to _adopt_ it. You can’t take it home. Soooo, it’s more of a sponsor thing!” she told them. She eyed them nervously. “It’s alright, if you’re not interested.” 

 

“No!” Stiles cried. “Sure. Yeah, I will adopt a wolf. Do I get to name it?” He picked up a brochure and looked at the glossy pictures.

 

“Wait, are you serious? People keep telling me they will then walk off when I ask for a credit card,” she told him. She wasted no time getting out a clipboard with paperwork. “Is this for you or is it an honorary thing?”

 

“He’s doing it for his soon to be boyfriend,” Danny cut in. He took all the shopping bags from Stiles so he could start filling out forms. 

 

“That’s sweet! And yes, you can name a wolf,” she smiled. She took Stiles’ credit card. “Is this a real name? Or this a porn name? I need I.D.” 

 

Stiles reached in his wallet to fish out his license. “See? That’s me. Please, no smart comments. With a name like that, I’m already doomed to my life being a comedy of errors.” He did his best to print neatly on the form. He chewed on his pen as he thought of what to put on the line for DESIRED NAME FOR WOLF. After a moment he wrote something. “So do I get some picture packet showing the wolf I’m buying Capri Suns for?”

 

“Uh yes. Though, wolves don’t live on Capri Suns,” she told Stiles. “In ten days you’ll get a packet. And you can chose your souvenir for your sponsorship. You can get  stuffed animal or a keychain, things like that. Here, pick one of these for your boyfriend.”

 

Danny smiled as Stiles got all flustered again. “Does that take care of your gift? Are we done shopping?” 

 

“Yeah, we’re good. Come on, Danny. I owe you lunch. Dollar menu style,” Stiles replied. He thanked the woman and wished her luck the rest of the day. They almost lost the Jeep in the crowded parking lot and Stiles terrible sense of direction in parking lots. Danny grabbed him and led him the way to the car. 

 

“I was kidding, Danny. You’re worth more than a dollar menu,” Stiles smiled once they were on the way back to Beacon Hills. He tossed the iPod to Danny so he could choose music.

 

“Do you feel better since you found Derek a gift?” Danny asked. 

 

“Yes. Is it a weird thing? It’s a weird gift,” Stiles said as he made himself start to panic again. “He will probably hate me for it.”

 

“You did a good thing. It’s a nice gesture. Don’t worry, Stiles,” Danny assured him. 

 

After lunch which included a large order of curly fries, Stiles was back to being himself. 

 

Though he was still fixated on having Glee moments. 

******

 

Stiles drove to Derek’s house. He almost didn’t even need to pay attention since he knew the journey so well. But Stiles would have felt terrible if he ran over a raccoon or something because he was spacey while operating a motor vehicle. Especially so close to Christmas.

 

He stopped in the driveway and then got out, gift bag in hand. He was nearly up the stairs to the house when Derek opened the door and looked Stiles and then the bag in his hand.

 

“Oh I wasn’t sure if you were gonna be home. I will just leave you with this? Alright? Okay, bye!” Stiles dropped the bag at Derek’s feet and dashed back into his Jeep and headed back home. 

 

He sulked as he climbed the stairs to his room. His brain was stuck on a loop; re-examining every detail and coming up with ways Stiles could have not botched that interaction.

 

*****

 

Derek looked at the gift bag a long time before he finally decided to pull out the contents. He pulled out a small box and a manilla envelope. He slit it open with his knife and snorted when he read the letter.

 

“Congratulations! A friend of yours has sponsored a wolf in your honor!” 

 

He skimmed through the paperwork as he shook his head in disbelief. A picture of a wolf fell out. Allegedly the one Stiles’ sponsored. The text under the picture read, “You have saved: SOURWOLF.”

 

Derek opened the small box which had a keychain of a wolf, displayed on a little pillow. It was almost ridiculous how it was in a velvety jewelry box. He reached in the bag and pulled out another envelope, this one bright red with a D scribbled on the front. 

 

He slid out the card and a CD was taped inside. Confetti spilled everywhere.

 

_Derek,_

_I dunno your personal feelings on holidays. But I imagine you hate things with antler headbands and jingling bells. Thought I’d get you something as a thanks for being around. Isn’t our wolf cute? I picked a good one._

 

_Merry Christmas._ _Happy Christmukkah!_

_-Stiles_

 

_PS. I didn’t give you the track listing for your mix CD. That’s cheating. You just have to listen and enjoy it._

 

 

Derek looked at this gifts and grabbed his jacket to take a drive. At the last second he grabbed the CD to listen to. Track one kicked off with “Dark in the city, night is  wire!” He glared at the stereo in a mixture of disbelief and frustration because Stiles made him listen to Hungry Like the Wolf.

 

He drove his familiar route and parked a block over. The loud engine of the Camaro tends to make his presence known. Derek walked up the block until he found the right house and headed to the backyard. He carefully pushed the window open and climbed in silently. 

 

Danny sat at his laptop headphones in. He looked up and shrieked. “MIGUEL!?”

 

Derek made face but still stood in the corner. 

 

“I mean. Uh hi Derek. Doors are cool,” Danny said. He pulled off his headphones and closed the laptop. “You know where I live.” 

 

Derek nodded. “Yeah, it wasn’t that hard to figure it out. You hang around us.”  He coughed and looked down at his feet. “And Stiles smells like Armani sometimes.”

 

“I knew he stole my cologne again!” Danny grumbled. “So uhm yeah. You’re in my room.” He straightened in his computer chair. 

 

“You hang around him a lot, right?” Derek asked roughly. “I mean, around Stiles. Specifically.”

 

Danny nodded. “Yeah. We’re good friends,” he answered slowly. 

 

“I’ve seen seen you guys at lacrosse practice, talking,” Derek said. He shifted uncomfortably in the small room.

 

“You make a habit of watching teenage boys play sports when you have a criminal record?” Danny asked carefully. “Which, Stiles assures me is a misunderstanding.” 

 

“He got me a Christmas present,” Derek stated. He inched back toward the window, ready to bolt. He could always slam Danny into a wall and tell him to never mention it ever. Until the end of time. 

 

“Yeah, he did. It was a long day at the mall,” Danny smiled. “He had to make sure he got the right thing for everyone. Somehow he managed to get me something without me noticing it.” 

 

“Why did he get me something?” Derek asked confused. He frowned. “It was nice.”

 

It was Danny’s turn to be confused. “Okay, so Stiles gets you a gift and its nice and you look like you’re about to have teeth pulled with rusty pliers.” Danny rubbed his forehead, the twinge of a migraine coming on.

 

“What do I get him now?” Derek huffed. He folded his arms and glared at Danny.

 

“Oh my god, you two are ridiculous,” Danny moaned. “Thank him? Talk to him? Adopt an animal as annoying as him?” Danny suggested. 

 

“I’m being serious!” Derek snapped. He leaned against the window. “He deserves something good.”

 

“Well, he managed to figure out what to do for you,” Danny said simply. “Just because I’m his best friend, doesn’t mean I’m gonna give it all away, Derek.”

 

“Sorry, I bothered you,” Derek mumbled. He nodded and slipped out the window and closed it behind him.

 

Danny didn’t mention Derek’s visit to Stiles. He knew he wasn’t supposed to.

 

******

“Did you give Derek his goodie bag?” Danny asked Stiles at lunch the next day. He reached in his backpack and gave Stiles a Twix. 

 

Stiles nodded and shoved both candy bars into his mouth at once. “Yup,” he replied. He busied himself with pretending to skim notes for his next class.

 

“And?” Danny pressed. “Did he like it?” 

“Dunno. I dropped it off,” Stiles mumbled. “He answered the door and I kinda threw it at him. And ran. And went home.” He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and chewed on the drawstring.

 

“You gave it to him though. That’s good,” Danny reassured him. 

 

“Yeah. He probably threw it in the trash,” Stiles sighed. “But I saved a wolf.” He glanced up at the clock and gathered his things, ready for the next class. 

 

“You think he’d do that?” Danny asked. He scrambled has Stiles dashed off. “And yeah, you did help a wolf.” He smiled at Stiles and split off to his own class. 

 

Stiles hung his head as he meandered down the hall, he slipped into his seat ten seconds before the bell rang. He skipped out on the pack hang out time the next few days. He wasn’t avoiding Derek. No, he wasn’t. Stiles was just super focused on reformatting his hard drive. And refolding the shirts in his drawers. Just tons of little tasks that were way more important than having to see Derek Hale’s face.

 

******

 

“You know, I’m getting a bit tired of saving your wolfy ass!” Stiles snapped. He tried to help Derek out of the forest. He grunted when a half-conscious Derek leaned on him, babbling nonsense. “I just wanted a quiet New Year’s Eve! Everyone else had their plans. Mine were to stay in and do a Firefly re-watch. I was in the middle of the Our Mrs. Reynolds episode, Derek! And you know what’s after that one? Jaynestown!”

 

Stiles continued to rant as he dragged Derek in the dark and tried not to trip on rocks and twigs. “But what do you do? You call me, demanding I come find you. Leaving out the fact you’re torn up and I think I can see bone.”

 

“Where are your keys?” Stiles grumbled. He helped Derek to the Camaro and took the keys from Derek’s pocket. He carefully shoved Derek in the passenger seat. Blood didn’t matter since it wasn’t Stiles’ Jeep. Derek can afford to have his car detailed. Whomever one calls to scrub blood and other grossness from a leather interior.

 

Stiles looked at the keys in his hand and noticed the only keychain was the wolf emblem he gave Derek for Christmas. 

 

“Seriously?” he muttered to himself. He climbed in the front seat and stabbed the key into the ignition and started the car. The CD player automatically started playing where it left off. Werewolves of London blared at full volume. He turned to glare at Derek. “Seriously!? I KNEW YOU LISTENED TO MY MIX CD, YOU JERK.”

 

Derek did his best to glare back at Stiles to get him to shut up but failed. He rested his head on the window, the cool glass soothing.

 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m driving you to Deaton’s,” Stiles snarled as he slammed on the gas and headed back toward civilization. He turned the stereo off as they journeyed in silence. Stopped at a slight, Stiles took off his hoodie and handed it to Derek. “Try and stop your bleeding,” he mumbled. 

 

Derek nodded and held the wadded up hoodie to his stomach. He curled up in his seat, trying not to pass out.

 

Stiles was a bit kinder when he helped Derek out of the car and into the back door of the veterinary clinic. He acted as a crutch and carefully shoved Derek onto the table where Deaton was waiting. He flopped down in a chair and looked at the blood on himself. 

 

The doctor snipped Derek’s shirt and peeled it off. He and started to clean the wound. 

 

Stiles gagged at all the exposed bits. “You don’t need me, right?  I can go? Oh god, is that muscle tissue I’m seeing?” Stiles gasped, his face paled. 

 

Deaton smiled. “Yes, you are dismissed. Thank you, Stiles.” He busied himself with lining up tools to pull out shards and stitch Derek’s torso back together. The werewolf’s eyes were closed and his face twisted up in pain and he clutched the sides of the table.

 

He left Derek’s keys on the chair so he could get home. He waved to Deaton and let himself out. 

 

“Happy New Year, Stiles,” Deaton called down the hall. “There’s a jacket by the door you’re welcome to borrow for your walk home.” 

 

He skipped the jacket and shoved his hands into his pockets and started his walk home. Stiles passed house after house, crammed with people laughing and celebrating. He unlocked the door to his silent house, the sheriff out on patrol. 

 

“I just wanted to watch Firefly,” Stiles muttered to himself as he shucked off his grimy clothes and shoved them in the washer. He was getting way too good at taking care of blood stains. He grabbed his phone and stabbed out a text message.

 

<<Happy New Year, Danny. Just had to save Derek’s life again.>>

 

<<Someone’s gotta. Guess he trusts you to it. And Happy New Year.>>

 

Stiles crashed in his bed and managed some sleep. He woke to his father yelling up the stairs that breakfast was ready. “I’m only getting out of bed if there are hashbrowns,” Stiles yelled back. He pulled on sweatpants and headed down to the kitchen.

 

“How was your shift, dad?” Stiles asked as he sat at the kitchen table. He took one of the orange juice glasses out on the table. He watches as his dad flitted about and made french toast. 

 

“The usuals. Public intoxication. A few driving under the influences,” the sheriff replied as he plated food and joined Stiles at the table. “Have a good night?”

 

“Yep. Pretty boring,” Stiles lied. “Had my television binge and ate my weight in watermelon Sour Punch straws.” He dug into his food as he enjoyed this rarity with his father. The french toast wasn’t even burned and the hashbrowns had cheese, served his favorite way. “What’s with the spread, dad?”

 

Papa Stillinski glared at his son. “I wanted us to have a nice breakfast. I used the fancy whole grain bread you made me buy!” He drank his coffee and chomped on bacon. “You left clothes in the washer again. Forget to change machines?”

 

“Oh yeah, I knew there was something. Thanks!” Stiles squeaked. “I’ll finish that up. And clean the kitchen after breakfast, okay?” He finished his food and pushed his plate aside. 

 

He wasted away the next few days before he had to go back to his classes. Danny checked in on him a few times with offers of pizza and video games. Stiles was fine. He didn’t need that. He wasn’t moping. No, he just wanted a thank you for once, for all his efforts. 

 

January slipped by and soon stores stocked heart shaped boxes and other disgusting junk. Stiles was tied up with getting through school and the occasional re-con work for the pack, it kept his nonexistent date book filled with stuff. He hadn’t even come home in bloody shirts in a while. It was nice. He jokingly wanted to put up a sign that kept track of this accomplishment. DAYS SINCE I’VE WORN VISCERA: 28. 

 

He was putting the finishing touches on a paper at 2 a.m. and decided it was time for sleep. Stiles put on sleep pants and went down the hall to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He returned to his room and climbed in bed. 

 

“Hi,” Derek said quietly from the corner by the closet. 

 

Stiles should have jumped but he was too used to receiving visitors this way. He knew better than to wake a sleeping sheriff up, screaming about intruders. “Yeah?” Stiles asked. He was tired, so close to the victory of sleep. 

 

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Derek commented crisply. He took a step forward then paused. He looked around Stiles’ messy room. Textbooks open and flagged with Post-its and notebooks scattered about. 

 

“Working on balancing the whole mortal danger versus graduating high school dichotomy,” Stile yawned. “Brushing up on my vocab so I can use words like dichotomy and perhaps do well on the SATs.” He squinted at Derek in the dark, too tired to turn on a lamp.

 

“Good. Good for you,” Derek replied mechanically.

 

“Do you have a reason for this visit? Otherwise you could have texted me,” Stiles said. He waved his phone at Derek. “I figured you’d like texting. Doesn’t require talking.” 

 

“Stiles,” Derek huffed. “You’re not making this easy.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at his feet. He took a deep breath to try again. “Thank you. For the Christmas present.”

 

Stiles nodded and rolled his eyes. He put space in between them, figuring the gift wasn’t something Derek wanted. “Yeah. Sure.”

 

“And for rescuing me on New Year’s Eve,” Derek said with the slightest of smiles at the corners of his mouth. “I’m sorry I ruined....your thing with Jane the dragonfly?” he said carefully.

 

He snorted. “You’re so out of touch dude. Firefly. And Jayne is a man. Don’t worry about it,” Stiles replied. 

 

“I don’t know what that is but alright,” Derek said. “I uhm wanted to give you this.” He reached inside his leather jacket and handed an envelope to Stiles and turned to leave. “Open it when you’d like,” Derek said over his shoulder. Once leg was already over the window sill. 

 

“No, stay. I’ll open it now,” Stiles said as he sat up in bed. He flicked on the lamp and scowled at the offensive light. He opened the envelope and blinked a few times before he read the letter. It was far too late or perhaps early to look at a jumble of numbers and words that didn’t seem to be in English. He looked at the paper again and then at Derek, tilting his head. 

 

“So that’s your paperwork. There’s a star adopted for you,” Derek said with a cough. He rested against the window. “It’s actually a planet-hosting star that I got for you.”

 

Stiles stared at Derek and then skimmed the paper. Star KIC 11512246 adopted for a Little Red. “Why did you do that?” he asked quietly. “Thank you, I mean.”

 

Derek actually smiled. “You’re welcome, Stiles. Stars help wolves find their way.” He climbed out the window and down the roofline and walked the few blocks to his car. The CD Stiles’ made was still in the stereo and Derek hummed along to Howlin’ For You. He forgot to give Stiles back his hoodie from New Year’s Eve. It was cleaned and folded neatly in the passenger seat. There was always tomorrow night. 

 

Stiles read through the paper again and at the bottom was a handwritten note from Derek in blocky script. “I almost made you a CD with Lucky Star on repeat 13 times. -D.” He grinned and carefully placed the letter in his side table. He grabbed his phone and dialed Danny. He picked up after two and a half rings.

 

“Stiles! Oh my god. Are you okay?” Danny said in a panic.

 

“Dannyboy. I’m great. How are you?” Stiles asked. “Nevermind. Derek got me either a late Christmas present or early Valentine’s thing,” he gushed. 

 

“I’m hanging up now,” Danny grumbled. “Thanks for not being dead.”  

 

“I’ll bring you coffee and scones tomorrow,” Stiles told Danny and then hung up.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
